


It's All Karma's Fault

by SuperWhoLock_12



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoLock_12/pseuds/SuperWhoLock_12
Summary: I knew it was wrong. I knew it. But ever since I'd been wounded by that werewolf, one man had been the cause of more dreams, more lust, than anyone I'd ever met before. Worst of all, he wasn't even technically a man...
Wait.
Let me start at the beginning.





	

I knew it was wrong. I _knew_ it. But ever since I'd been wounded by that werewolf, one man had been the cause of more dreams, more lust, than anyone I'd ever met before. Worst of all, he wasn't even technically a _man_...

Wait.

Let me start at the beginning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was karma, I decided. It was karma that had landed me in this position, in Dean Winchester's bed, with his brother threading a wicked-looking curved needle above me, preparing to sew up a frankly horrifying gash along my ribs.

Why was it karma? I'd walked past a dog without petting it yesterday, and today its more lupine cousin had decided to take a chunk out of me. Obviously this was payback for ignoring that poor, needy golden retriever who just wanted a scratch behind the ears and maybe a tummy rub. Clearly I needed to pet _all_ the dogs I came in contact with.

“Sam,” I slurred, reaching up to grab his wrist, “I need a dog to pet. Go find me a dog.”

Instead of replying, Sam looked at Dean. “Blood loss,” he said grimly. “The werewolf did a number on her. Did you hear from Cas?”

“Nothing. Radio silence from the angel. We sure it didn't bite her?” Dean replied, studying my half-nude torso with professional interest.

“Yeah, she just has the claw marks.” Sam turned his attention to me and said soothingly, “Okay, sweetheart, this is going to hurt a little. Just stay still, okay?” I wasn't sure I was capable of moving anyway, but I nodded muzzily and braced for the sting of the needle.

The worst part of getting stitches wasn't the pain, it was the awful feeling of skin being tugged back into position. As Sam drew the needle through the last bit of the wound and tied off the end, I relaxed, gasping, onto the bed.

“Why did I think it was a good idea to go after a werewolf on my own?” I asked Sam, peering up at his blurry face.

“Because you're a badass,” Dean said with a smile, “but now you have to promise to never. Do it. Again.”

“Yeah, okay,” I agreed. “You'll come rescue me if I do, though, right?”

“Every time,” Sam promised, leaning down and giving me a chaste kiss on the forehead.

A few days later, it became clear that the wound was deeper than the the brothers had originally thought and, moreover, it was infected. Red and hot to the touch, the laceration was going to require more medical knowledge than the Winchesters had. After much arguing on my part, they eventually overruled me and hauled me off to a hospital, where the doctor gave me some truly excellent drugs and ordered bed rest for two weeks.

High on my painkillers, I didn't notice that the Impala wasn't headed for the motel room where I'd set up shop while looking for the werewolf. In fact, I didn't notice much of anything until Sam scooped me out of the backseat, jostling my wound in the process, and carried me into an enormous underground building.

After navigating a maze of corridors, Sam nudged a door open with his foot and gently placed me on a bed. “Where – what are you doing, Sam?” I asked, surfacing from my drugged haze for just long enough to register that this was _not_ the Red Roof Inn. 

“You're staying with us for a while,” the hunter replied, covering me with a blanket. “At least until we know you can handle yourself again.”

“I'm fine!” I protested, struggling to sit up. Sam placed one huge hand on my chest and, applying barely any pressure, had me flat on my back again.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Maybe I'm not fine.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “You're not fine. You're gonna stay right there, and eat the food we bring you, and watch TV, and read books, and do nothing for two weeks. Then we'll talk about hunting again.”

I pouted at him, but conceded, and he shut the door quietly behind him as he left the room. I sighed and reached for the remote, resigning myself to two weeks of hovering Winchesters.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Four days later, I was ready to scream with frustration. The boys were taking “bed rest” seriously, and the only time I'd been out of this bed was to go to the bathroom. Netflix could only hold my interest for so long, and I was bored out of my mind and so ready to at least get up and walk around for a while. 

I was flipping sullenly through movies on Netflix when there was a soft pop to my left. I turned my head, saw who had arrived, and threw my head back onto the pillows in frustration.

“Crowley,” I groaned. “What do you want?” Of course it was him, that wretched son of a bitch that made me want to hit him and kiss him and kill him and fuck him all at the same time.

The demon gave me a wounded look. “What, a man can't visit a bedridden friend without some sort of ulterior motive?”

I rolled my eyes and held up a hand, ticking off fingers as I spoke. “One, we aren't friends. Two, you aren't visiting, you're breaking in. And three, you _always_ have an ulterior motive.”

Crowley put his hand to his heart. “Love, I am _deeply_ offended that you think we aren't friends. Haven't I refrained from killing you on multiple occasions, purely out of the goodness of my heart?”

“You don't have a heart, Crowley. You're a demon. Now leave, before I yell for the boys.”

Crowley smirked. “Here's the thing. The boys are on a hunt, something about a djinn, I wasn't really listening. You know how Moose gets when he's overexcited. What's more, they don't seem to trust that you'll stay in bed like a good little girl.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “None of that explains your presence.”

“Oh, but it does, sweetheart! I'm here to – well – babysit, for lack of a better term.”

I laughed in disbelief. “Bullshit. They don't trust you, they'd never deliberately leave you alone with me while I'm not able to defend myself.”

Instead of answering me, Crowley pulled a scroll out of his suit pocket and handed it to me. Still suspicious, I propped myself up on the pillows, unrolled the parchment and read quickly.

_Agreement between Sam and Dean Winchester and Crowley, King of Hell...watch over said woman as she recovers...do no harm of any kind to her body, mind, or soul...remain in designated areas of the bunker...defend her to the best of his ability in exchange for -_

I looked up at him in shock. “They made a deal with you? They won't interfere with your plans for one month in exchange for you babysitting me?!”

Crowley shrugged. “It's all hedged around. Neither my demons nor myself can do any harm to humanity or in any other way interfere with the natural order.”

I looked at him skeptically. “So what are you planning to do in the next month you don't want the boys interfering with?”

The demon winked. “That's for me to know and you to find out, princess.”

I sighed and collapsed back onto my pillows. “Fine. Sit there, don't move, and _don't_ call me princess.” Like I needed more contact with him; that was _definitely_ going to help with the whole lusting after a demon thing. Crowley gave me a mock salute and settled into his armchair.

I made him leave when I was ready to go to sleep, though. The last thing I needed was him hovering while I tried to get some shut-eye. After a brief argument, which culminated in me threatening to get up and deliberately pop my stitches, Crowley agreed to wait in the library until I woke up. Satisfied, I waited until he'd stomped out of the room and drifted off to sleep.

_“Please, please sir, I need to – I need -”_

_“I know what you need, love.”_

_“Oh God, right there, right – there – fuck! Crowley!”_

I woke up with a deep throbbing between my legs, and I banged my head on the pillows as I tried to shove the dream out of my head. They were becoming more and more frequent, and Crowley's presence was _not_ helping.

Two days passed like this, and on the third day, I began to get a bit concerned about the boys. I gave in and called Dean, and ended up leaving a worried voicemail instead of talking to him.

Seeing my anxiety, Crowley tried his best to soothe me. “Love, I'm sure they're fine. Those boys are indestructible. Need I remind you of how many times they've died and come back?”

Now I was thinking about them dead. “That didn't help, asshole!” I sat up sharply in bed to swat at him, then collapsed back onto the pillows as a sudden pain swept through my side.

“Fuck,” I said through gritted teeth. The demon gave me a smug look, and I settled back down, trying to ignore the dull throb of the wound.

The next day, I got a text from Dean, which read, _“At least four djinn. Will be a while. Can't believe I'm saying this, but listen to Crowley.”_

After I cursed Sam and Dean so thoroughly that their descendants would be feeling the effects four generations down the line, Crowley looked at me in admiration. “That was impressive. I'm not sure I've ever heard the phrase 'I hope purple aliens chew your dick off.'”

“And I hope it hurts like a motherfucker, too,” I muttered. “Goddamn Winchesters.”

Suddenly, a crash sounded from the kitchen, and I sat bolt upright in bed, groping for the gun under my pillow. Crowley was on his feet before I'd laid hands on the weapon, and his eyes flashed red as he hissed, “Stay quiet. Shoot anything that comes through that door.” He disappeared with a soft pop, and I strained my ears for the sounds of violence.

When the door slammed open, I wasn't prepared, but the tall blond man in the doorway took three shots in the chest anyway. Instead of collapsing, or even wincing, he just gave me a slow smile and let a silver blade drop into his hand.

“Oh, shit,” I whispered, scooting as far away from him as I could get and wishing my own angel blade wasn't in my duffel on the other side of the room. As the man started towards me, I tucked and rolled out of bed, ignoring the shock of pain in my side, and scrambled towards the bag in the hopes of at least putting up a fight.

I had my fingers wrapped around the strap before a hand grabbed my ankle, jerking me backwards and towards the angel. I rolled onto my back, kicking at his arm, but he twisted his wrist and my ankle snapped with an awful cracking sound.

I shrieked and went limp, sobbing as the angel knelt on the floor next to me. “Now, I don't want to hurt you,” he said, the words completely incompatible with the look of glee on his face, “but I need to know where the Winchesters are.”

“I don't know,” I gasped out. He raised his blade and drove it through my thigh, two inches away from my femoral artery, and I screamed again. “Please, I don't know!” The knife went through my shoulder next, and I wailed as the agony from that wound merged with the pain from my leg and ankle and even the dull throb of my healing cut. I felt myself beginning to drift towards blackness, craving the oblivion that passing out would bring, when the angel laid two fingers against my forehead and I snapped back to awareness

“Uh uh uh, no passing out on me yet,” he said. “Not until you tell me where Sam and Dean are.”

“I told you, I don't know!” I sobbed. “They left, and they didn't tell me! I swear, please, I don't know!”

The angel leaned down until his face was barely two inches from mine. “I believe you,” he said quietly, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then a sadistic grin twisted his face, and he slashed a long line down my cheek. “But I bet they'll come looking for you.” He brought the blade up again and I braced for whatever pain would come next, when suddenly his mouth opened in shock and his eyes flared blue. As my world faded to black, I saw Crowley standing above the angel, a bloody blade in his hand. As the demon dropped to his knees next to me, I passed out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When I woke up, I was in an enormous four poster bed, wearing only my tank top and underwear. I went to sit up, forgetting about my wounds, and collapsed with a gasp of pain as the injuries reasserted themselves.

“Easy, love,” came a British voice from the door, and Crowley walked into the room, hands in his pockets. He leaned against the doorway and looked me over with a critical eye. “Still in pain?”

“Of course I'm in pain,” I snapped. “An angel used me for torture practice.”

He frowned. “You shouldn't still hurt this much. Maybe...” he snapped his fingers. “Angel blade. It'll take longer to heal.”

I couldn't take any more of his cryptic bullshit. “What the fuck, Crowley? Where am I?”

He shrugged. “You're in Hell, of course. It was the easiest place for me to take you. And, as a bonus, it'll help you heal faster.”

I shook my head in bewilderment. “How will _Hell_ help me heal faster?”

Crowley spread his arms expansively. “It's where I have the most power, love. I can tell your body to heal and it will. Unless, of course, the damage was done by a heavenly weapon. You'll still heal faster than you would upstairs, but it'll take a few days.”

I laughed and sank back against the pillows. “Oh, man. Sam and Dean are gonna _kill_ you.”

The demon looked smug. “They can't. It's in the deal. This was the best way for me to protect you, and I took it. Besides, I got a phone call from Moose while you were out. Turns out the djinn had been summoned by witches, and now they've got a whole new mess to handle. He thinks they'll be gone for another two weeks.”

“God-fucking-dammit,” I muttered. “Well, there's no Netflix down here, so someone's gonna have to entertain me.”

Crowley smirked. “Fortunately for you, princess, I've cleared my schedule.” He settled in a plush armchair next to the bed and crossed one leg over the other. “So. What do you want to talk about?”

_You taking off your clothes and getting into this bed with me._ I fought off the blush and asked, “Don't call me princess. How many angels were there?”

“Six,” Crowley replied, his face suddenly grim. “I'd hoped the Winchesters had warded against unknown angels, but apparently not.”

I let my head fall back against the pillow behind me. “Fuck. Fucking angels. All the fucker wanted to know was where the boys were, and I wasn't going to tell the jackass anything. Of course, it's not not like I know anything because the goddamned assholes just _left_ and aren't telling me shit.”

Crowley whistled lowly and shook his head. “For such a pretty girl, you have a filthy mouth.”

I gave in to the impulse and winked. “Oh baby, you have no idea.”

The demon leaned forward and smirked, his eyes dropping to my lips. “Maybe one day I'll get the chance to find out, hmm?”

Sure he was just playing along, I looked up at him from under my eyelashes. “Play your cards right, and maybe you will.”

Crowley licked his lips. “And what cards are those, love?”

I grinned at him. “That's for me to know and you to find out.”

He laughed. “Oh, you little minx. Fine, we'll play this game and see where it goes.” His voice dropped to a low timbre, vaguely threatening, that made my stomach twist in delicious knots. “But I'm warning you, darling, I always win.”

_Oh. My. God. I think he's serious._ Abruptly changing the subject, I asked, “So whose bed am I in? I doubt you keep guest rooms in Hell.”

He laughed. “You're in my bed, love. And, speaking of which, I do need a rest. Killing six angels takes it out of a demon.” He stood up and toed off his shoes and socks, then unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it over the chair. His tie followed the jacket, and as he began working on the buttons of his dress shirt, my brain suddenly kicked back into gear.

“Um, where were you planning to sleep?” I asked, pretty sure I knew the answer, but needing the confirmation.

“I don't sleep, but I was planning to lie down in my bed.” He shrugged the now unbuttoned shirt off and flung it over the chair as well, giving me a good, long look at a toned chest and a stomach with just a bit of softness.

“But -” I stopped and swallowed, trying not to drool. “But I'm in your bed.”

Crowley gave me a look that made me feel like an utter idiot. “Yes, you are.” His fingers dropped to the waistband of his pants and deftly unfastened the button and zipper. He stepped out of them, leaving him in black silk boxers, and I gulped. “Didn't you ever learn to share?” He reached for the waistband of the boxers, then stopped and looked at me. “I suppose I'll leave these on, to protect your delicate sensibilities.”

When he reached to lift the covers to slide into the bed, I squeaked and jerked the blankets around me. “I'm not – I mean – my pants - ”

Crowley gave me a disgusted look. “Who do you think took them off in the first place, love?”

Well, that did _not_ make me feel any better, but I guess it would have to do. Swallowing hard, I scooted as far over as I could, away from temptation, and huddled into the pillows.

_Wait. Hang on._ “That didn't hurt!”

Crowley looked at me quizzically. “What didn't hurt?”

“I moved! I scooted over and pulled my knees up and nothing hurt!”

The demon preened. “I guess my power's working a bit faster than I thought it would.” He abruptly ripped the covers back, and I squealed and grabbed for them. 

“What the _fuck_ -”

“I have to look at the wounds, princess.”

_“I told you not to call me that!”_

Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers, and I was pinned against the mattress like a butterfly, open to his inspection. “Be still, love, or you'll open a cut again.” Still swearing at him, I settled down, and he perused my body with professional interest. He ran his hands gently over the wound on my leg, pressing carefully against the pink scar where only hours before there had been an open gash. I winced, and he immediately lessened the pressure, turning the exploratory inspection into a gentle caress.

I shivered, all of my attention centered on his hands on my skin, until suddenly he pulled away. “Healing well. I think you'll be back to normal by tomorrow.” 

The demon slipped into bed beside me, a decorous eight inches between us, as I found I could move again. I immediately rolled over, getting as far away from him as possible, and settled into a comfortable position. I could feel the stress and exhaustion of the day taking over, and as I slipped into sleep, I heard Crowley whisper, “Good night, love.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I was fading out of some sort of positively delicious dream as I came slowly to a painless awareness, cuddled up against something warm and – a bit poky, really, there was something prodding me in the stomach. It wasn't uncomfortable enough to make me move, though, and I snuggled closer, releasing a soft sigh against - 

Crowley's chest.

Oh, fuck.

Which meant that thing poking me was - 

Oh, _fuck._

“I know you're awake, love,” came a deep, amused voice from above my head, and I peeked up to see Crowley smirking down at me. I took a deep breath and shoved my nerves down. The best way to handle this was to flirt and tease, right? Right.

I wriggled against him, deliberately rubbing against his erection. “Good morning.” I looked down pointedly. “Seems like someone else is saying good morning, too.” I wiggled again, making him hiss.

“Love, if you don't stop that, I'll -”

“You'll what?”

He growled. “I'll bloody well use it on you, and we'll see how much teasing you can do while you're screaming my name.”

_Should I? This is a terrible idea...oh well._ I grinned and pushed my hips forward, rubbing against him again. “Promises, promises.”

His face twisted into a snarl, and he hissed, “You asked for it, princess.” He slammed his lips down onto mine, kissing me with a ferocity I'd never seen before, as he pinned my wrists above my head with one strong hand, and with the other, grabbed the neckline of my top and yanked. The fabric shredded easily, leaving my chest bare to his hungry gaze, and he immediately leaned down and captured a nipple between his lips.

I moaned and arched my back, shoving my breast into his mouth, and tugged at his grip on my wrists. I wanted to touch him, to run my hands over that strong back and that firm ass, to slide my fingers over his cock and see if I could make him moan too.

Unfortunately, he seemed disinclined to let me go, and I twisted under his talented mouth as he switched from one breast to the other. I ground my hips up, looking for friction, but he stayed just high enough I couldn't reach him. 

When he finally released my wrists to move down my body, I gasped and threaded my fingers through his hair as he nipped at my navel on his way down. He jerked at my underwear, ripping it off in one movement, and I shivered in arousal. I spread my legs, displaying myself to him, and he grinned and ran his fingers through my wetness. “You are soaked, and just from me playing with your tits. How long have you been wanting this?”

How was I supposed to focus when he was running his fingers teasingly over my clit? “Since – _fuck_ – since you helped me kill those witches in Indiana, I think.”

Crowley raised up and looked at me in surprise. “Love, that was two years ago.”

I nodded breathlessly and tried to push his head back down, but he wasn't having any of it. “You've been lusting after me for two years. Have you been having dreams? Fantasies? What filthy thoughts run through that pretty little head?”

“Fuck, Crowley,” I whined, my higher brain functions not working, “just fuck me already!”

When he rubbed his fingers over my clit again, setting up a strong, sweet rhythm, I gasped and threw my head back. I was so close, just from him touching me, just from knowing it was the king of Hell playing my body like his own personal instrument. I reached for my climax, feeling it spiral closer and closer...

Crowley stopped and pulled away, licking his fingers clean. “Now, love, I think you were telling me about your fantasies?”

“You asshole!” I hissed. “I was so close!”

He smiled smugly. “I know. But you aren't getting anything else until you tell me what you've been dreaming about.”

I threw my head back into the pillows. “I think sometimes about – about you not letting me come until you say I can.”

The demon rubbed his finger over my clit, just once, sending a sharp shock of pleasure through me. “What else?”

I bit my lip and twisted. “I wonder if maybe you would want me to call you sir, and if you might want to spank me.”

This time he lowered his head and licked a long stripe up my folds, coming up to say, “Anything else?”

I gasped and shoved my hips up. “I dream – I dream about you tying me down, so I can't move, and fucking me until I can barely breathe.”

Crowley pulled his head up and gave me a filthy grin. “I think we can manage all of that, love.” He snapped his fingers and my hands were pulled above my head by invisible tethers, and my legs spread and bound to the bedposts by the same demonic ropes. He smirked at me again and said, “Well, that's one out of four. Let's add another. Don't ruin my fun by coming, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I moaned, and he grinned up at me.

“You're right, I like that too. Three out of four.” Then he shoved his face back between my legs and slid his tongue along my pussy, stopping to circle my clit, then slowly slipped a finger into me and thrust it in and out. I moaned and thrust my hips up, only to find them slammed back down and held there by the same magical force that kept my arms and legs restrained.

I was pinned down and spread open, completely helpless to the king of Hell, and that thought ought to terrify me. I was a hunter, sworn to kill monsters and demons and things that go bump in the night, and instead, I was just really, really turned on.

As his tongue swept over my clit again, I found my climax looming over me, seemingly inescapable no matter how I fought it. As the demon between my legs ate me out with the skill of hundreds of years of practice, I jerked at my bonds and whimpered, “Gonna come, sir, please, gonna -”

Crowley stopped and pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and I cried out in loss before I could stop myself. He smirked at me again, then moved slowly up me to plant another soul-sucking kiss on me. Drawing back, he licked his lips, then said, “I believe we said something earlier about me trying out that filthy mouth?” I nodded, still trying to catch my breath, and he moved up until his cock rested against my lips. “Open up.”

I opened my mouth and he fed me his cock slowly, inch by inch, until he hit the back of my throat. I ruthlessly suppressed my gag reflex and began to suck, tracing my tongue along the veins on the bottom of his shaft, as he fucked my mouth. A particularly clever swipe of my tongue across the head managed to draw a moan from him and his thrusts sped up until he was hitting the back of my throat on every pass.

I heard his breathing begin to catch and I sucked harder, not thinking about my own need for him to fuck me, just thinking about making him lose himself in my mouth, when he cursed and pulled out completely. “You're a bit too good at that, love,” he said breathlessly. “Our evening almost ended early.”

I whined wordlessly and writhed under him, trying to thrust my hips up towards him but held down by his demonic power, and he chuckled as he knelt around my chest and looked down at the mess he'd made of me. “Such a mouthy little thing until someone gets you all wound up, hm?”

I realized dimly that I ought to be offended by that, but my need for him was too strong and instead I gasped, “Please, Crowley, please fuck me, I need to come!”

He pressed a finger to his chin in mock thought, then relented. “I suppose you've been a good girl.” Moving down, he positioned himself between my legs, his cock nudging at my folds, and I whimpered. He slid his cock up and down, catching on my clit and my opening, never quite penetrating, until I howled, “Please, sir! Please! God, I need you to fuck me!”

Before I had finished my plea, Crowley had slammed into me, punching the air out of my lungs and filling me up in one move. I gasped at the pain-pleasure of the stretch and wrapped my legs around his hips, dimly noting that the invisible restraints had been removed from my ankles and hips. His thrusts were strong and steady, and his cock rubbed my inner walls in just the right way until I found myself fighting back yet another orgasm.

I tensed and jerked at my bonds, wanting to rake my nails down his back, wanting to mark him as mine, but the demonic ropes refused to budge and I settled for wailing out my pleasure loudly enough all of Hell probably knew what their king was doing to the hunter in his bedroom.

“Please,” I panted, “Please, I can't hold it, please, I'm gonna come.”

Crowley snarled down at me. “Come before I say you can and we'll see how you like the fourth item on your fantasy list.”

_Fourth. What was fourth? Oh...spanking._ God, how did he have enough coherent thought to remember that while I was a mess of arousal and desperation?

I managed it, though. I managed to hold it off under he leaned down and growled in my ear, _“Come,”_ and I fell off the edge of the cliff I'd been precariously balancing on for what felt like hours. My whole body seized up with pleasure, and I dimly felt him slam into me one last time and let my orgasm bring him to his.

When I finally came down, Crowley was pulling out of me with a hiss. He pulled a cloth out of thin air and wiped us both down as I caught my breath, my endorphin high slowly fading as I realized _exactly who I'd just fucked._

“Oh, shit,” I whispered. “Sam and Dean are gonna kill me.”

“No, they aren't,” Crowley said, producing that scroll with a flourish again. “They swore not to interfere with my plans for a month, and considering my plan was seducing you...well. They're fucked. Not as well as you are, of course.” He vanished the parchment and smirked at me, so I smacked his chest lightly.

“You actually made that deal meaning to seduce me?”

The demon shrugged. “What? You're mouthy, sexy, and can take care of yourself; what's not to want?”

I blushed as he climbed back into bed. “Wait, you – you're coming back to bed?”

Crowley laughed as he took me in his arms. “You think I'm not after post-sex cuddles? One of the best parts. Now hush, and go to sleep.”

I curled up in my king's arms and began to drift off. Who knew what the Winchesters' reaction would be, but whatever – we'd figure it out. I had the master of deals on my side, after all.

With a small smile on my face, I fell asleep, thinking maybe I should thank that werewolf, and maybe karma wasn't out to get me after all.


End file.
